


some moments last forever

by smallredboy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-28 00:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15696357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Alex gets hypothermia while at a particularly cold planet.





	some moments last forever

**Author's Note:**

> fills my 'AU: Space' square in trope bingo and my 'hypothermia' square in gen prompt bingo. i might write more for this AU because i really like how it came out - i'm not even a big fan of scifi or such but i liked writing this! 
> 
> enjoy!

“This is fucking stupid,” Alex sneers.

George is leaning against one of the tables, a scarf over his jacket. He’s wearing boots made of the fur of a creature Alex can’t even pretend to know how to pronounce the name of. He looks cute like that. Alex has thoroughly ignored George’s and Commander Montgomery's warnings about how crude the weather on Zima is. He might be from Alsay, but he can handle a little cold; George is being a pussy just by putting so many layers on. 

Commander Montgomery starts, “So, to recap —”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alex interrupts, “I go find those healing herbs that are only in this river in the fucking end of the galaxy, maybe get some projections of those weird disappearing foxes, yeah.”

“You’re insufferable,” Montgomery tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He’s menacing, but not as menacing as George. He still isn’t sure why George isn’t the commander instead of him — he’s a lot more imposing and better at taking charge. “You’re lucky you’re good at your job.”   


Alex tsks. “ _ You’re _ lucky I’m good at my job.”

George looks a little scandalized by how disrespectful Alex is towards the commander, but doesn’t say anything. He straps his projector over his shoulder (Alex never can stop himself from admiring how wide his shoulders are, how small he is compared to George); then he turns around, smiles at Alex, and beckons him. Alex’s insides turn to jelly and he walks towards him.

The door to the outside opens, a small ramp leading to the planet of Zima. Alex immediately realizes he might’ve been wrong on ignoring the warnings. But he’s stubborn, so he zips his jacket up and gets out of the ship, letting his boots bury into the bluish gray snow.

“This is fucking stupid,” Alex repeats.

George laughs and nudges him, and starts walking towards the supposed river where there’s the supposed herbs. He’s gonna get that, gonna take some projections of foxes, and then get the fuck out of there. The chill is already getting to his bones and he’s barely out of the ship.

George takes care of the projections — he takes a long video of one fox far away, with its striking blue fur changing color to imitate its surroundings of grey-blue snow. When it changes back to blue as it jumps, George finishes the projection with a wide smile. Alex only smiles, nods, and buries his hands in his pockets. It’s fucking freezing on this planet. He’s from Alsay, why in the hell did Montgomery send him here?

They walk towards the river, not taking too much time, but not hurrying either. By when he sees the river, Alex starts shivering a lot. He bites his lip, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw. George is smiling a little, almost in a ‘told you so’ manner, but he doesn’t say anything. It drives Alex mad, how amused he looks.

Alex goes to the river; it’s flowing rich with water, and he knows it will be as cold as the rest of the planet. So instead of taking some of it (which granted, must taste fucking great), he takes his canteen and takes a long sip from it. He pulls off his gloves and sinks his hands into the water, looking for the herbs. The water is freezing, as he expected, and his face twists uncomfortably.

“Alexander,” George says softly, kneeling next to him and grabbing his wrist. “You’re gonna get hypothermia like that. Should’ve left your gloves on.”

“I’m fine,” Alex says but, doesn’t pull away. “I’m fine, George, really.”

“You’re shaking.”   


“I’m fine.”   


“Stop being so stubborn,” George says tiredly, pulling Alex’s hand out of the water and then doing the same with the other. “You’re shaking, Alex. Go back to the ship.

Alex shakes the water off his hands and then rubs them together, putting his gloves back on. “Nope. Monty will give me the sermon of my life if I come back before you.”

George shakes his head, smiling just a little bit, and puts his gloved hands into the river. After some looking, he finds the herbs. They’re a yellowish color, and George takes more of them before putting them in a bag. George did all the job, and Alex knows he shouldn't have, but he's a shivering mess, so he doesn't say anything. 

“Let's get back there,” George says, helping Alex to stand up and guiding him through the snow. Alex shivers and presses his legs together, trying to preserve his diminishing body heat. 

As soon as the ramp goes up and closes the ship behind them, Alex collapses, shaking a little. He's cold, he's so damn cold, and he just wants to get some warmth. The ship is already warmer than the planet, but it's not near enough. 

“Did Hamilton's stubbornness regarding clothing cause this?” Montgomery asks George, tilting his head, squinting. 

“It did, commander,” he replies, crossing his arm over his torso so his hand is on the opposite shoulder. He bows a little. 

“Stop bein’ all respectful to Monty and help me with my hypothermia,” he mumbles, getting up and getting a blanket from one of the bedrooms. He wraps it around himself and walks outside the bedroom, sitting against the wall just so he can mope and yell at Montgomery. 

George steps towards him, steps light and quick and his height isn’t all that intimidating right now. “How'd you like me to help, Alexander?”

Alex wraps the blanket more tightly around himself, not knowing how to answer. George can't help, really. All he could do is help him warm up, which would make him all warm and mushy and he doesn't need that right now. He doesn't need to fall a little more in love with his coworker, his teammate— his all too polite teammate. 

George kneels close to his bundle and puts a hand on the blanket. Alex flushes red and struggles with words; George pulls away at that. 

“It'll help,” George points out. “I don't want it to worsen, Alexander.”

Of course it's only that, Alex tells himself. Of course this isn't an excuse of George's to cuddle with him— what else did he expect? To get lucky and have his older teammate notice him? Guess again. 

“Alright,” he whispers, barely audible, and unwraps the blanket a little. George immediately gets close to him, wraps the blanket around them both. Alex’s face burns, and he isn't shivering anymore. 

George wraps an arm around Alex's middle, always careful, looking for discomfort, for unease. Alex never gives him that, though— he grins wide and nods. 

“You need to listen to the commander,” George mumbles as he rests his chin on Alex's shoulder, his torso pressed against Alex's back. His arms are around Alex's middle, and he's impossibly warm, nothing like he was mere minutes ago in the blue snow. 

Alex snorts a little. “Sure thing, George.”

“You shouldn't be so stubborn. You needed warmer clothes.”

Alex turns around a little, his breath getting caught in his throat at the sight of George. He's smiling ever so slightly, the slight tilt up of the corner of his lips. His eyes are gleaming with this emotion he can't quite place, and he seems all too pleased to have Alex in his arms. 

“Maybe I did,” Alex says. But it got him in George's arms, so he's glad he's stubborn right now. George smiles and presses him a little closer, until their faces are inches away from each other.

George's eyes shine, and his lips are a little chapped. Alex wants nothing more than to kiss him, than to kiss him until they're both breathless. He wants George all for himself, all for his touch and his kiss. He wants George so bad it makes him ache. 

He doesn't dare, though. He doesn't dare try and lose the little connection he already has with the man. George is his friend, he guesses — he doesn't use that word very often. But they're kind of close, and he knows about George’s dead brother, and George knows of his dead mother, killed at a raid into his hometown. 

They're close, they're friends, they're joined together by tragedy and by working under the same man. They're different and similar, years between them. They're the same species, too — the same descendant of the extinct  _ homo sapiens _ . There aren't many things separating them. 

George holds him until he's all warm, until he's quiet and pliant into his touch. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. 

George doesn't pull away. He puts a lock of Alex's hair behind his ear, looking at him with so much emotion, and Alex can't breathe. He looks at him with questions and with hope. 

George's smile and gaze are unreadable. 

“I've got to pack the herbs,” he says, and slowly starts to get away from Alex. He seems almost hesitant to do so, as if he grew used to holding Alex as much as Alex grew used to his touch. 

“I can help with that,” Alex mutters immediately, straightening up a little in his blanket bundle. 

George hesitates. “I'll be alright.”

Alex sighs and sinks back into the blanket. “Okay. You're taking the top bunk today.”

George chuckles, eyes gleaming. “Why? We can always share one.”

Alex's stomach flips upside down, and he opens his mouth to say anything. To flirt back, to give a sarcastic reply. Nothing comes out. 

George gives him a flutter of his eyelashes and turns back to walk towards the packing room. 

Alex groans and buries his thoughts about it all deep down, face flushed red. He can't bring himself to say anything, even though it's obvious George wants something similar, too. He's just afraid of what would come after— of what will happen if he ruins their shaky bond by pursuing a romantic relationship with him. 

“This is fucking stupid,” he mumbles as he gets up and goes to their bunk, crawling into the bottom bed. He puts the blanket over the covers and lays on his side.

He can deal with his feelings for George later, after he gets some rest. 


End file.
